


Vitreous

by Resin



Category: The Walking Dead (Video Games)
Genre: Eventual Romance, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-03
Updated: 2015-05-04
Packaged: 2018-03-26 12:54:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3851731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Resin/pseuds/Resin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You are less.</p><p>Homeless, helpless and hopeless.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Equilibrium

The fire snared about the drying logs, the light ebbing from the flames as your shadow stretched out across the grass behind you. It was hot; your face felt dry and you felt compelled to retreat back into the shadows in spite of the chill. But you sat there, watching the skinned rodent be slowly seared by the flames below as it rested on a pike. Damn, you were hungry. You could eat that thing in seconds.

Unfortunately, you can't and you won't. It was cooking for two, not three, and you would rather have half of a meal than a third of it.

Your spine erected into a proper posture as footsteps started in your direction, prompting you from your avarice thoughts. Scruffy and filthy near your side, the man slipped his blade into its sheath and gestured off to the RV just beyond the campfire. It was rusty and you were certain it was unsanitary, but you had since learned that the inside was well kempt for the most part.

"You... should probably go sleep. Me n' Nick are keepin' watch for the night, alright?"

You peered up at him. The fire gave your gaze a bit of a sharp edge to it as you glared - it was uncertain if he was being nice, or just being unnecessarily chivalrous. With a fast pace, you upped yourself and started for the camper.

The campsite you tread upon had gangled vines and flaking rust from most of the metal barrels surrounding. It felt like a junkyard with the old and dirtied wrappers laying about. The undergrowth that sprouted out from under the things around gave it all an overgrown feel. This was the norm for most areas now though; it felt familiar, but you didn't even have the time to enjoy it.

As you entered the camper and prepared to shut the door, you caught a glimpse of the two men outside settling near the fire. They spoke in hushed voices, just out of earshot for comprehension. It reminded you of school children, chattering and laughing about something you had no idea of. And yet it still irked you, because they didn't know anything about you, if they were even talking about you in the first place. But that was your fault to begin with.

So you slugged your way over like a zombie to the couch, resting a hand upon its armrest. It felt old and threadbare, similar to a man's old work shirt.

 Good enough to sleep on.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The first thing you did was curl your toes. It was an uncomfortable sleep, but still a sleep that you needed. And you've been needing a nice sleep for a long while. 

You felt warm; your legs curled inwards and your fingers mindlessly gripped as the fabric below you. Your eyes glanced around, noticing how oddly bright it was inside the camper. You remember how you prepared yourself a small bed on the couch last night, making sure to lay your jacket out below you to avoid the grime. The interior of the RV was obviously used and somewhat filthy from previous experiences, and you weren't desperate enough to lay in old filth for sleep just yet.

You jolted up in a sharp arch as the creak of an opening door jerked you from the sleepish stupor, rousing you in the most unappealing way. Glancing upwards, you caught the gaze of a face that took you a second to register. It was Luke's friend.

"Get up. We're moving."

"...I am up." The sleep in your voice was still apparent, but your argument stayed the same. You were up.

It took him a moment to respond, giving a glance over his shoulder presumably to the other man outside. "Alright then, whatever. Just get ready."

Leaving you to your business, he shut the door behind him as he exited the camper. It gave the space around you a rather empty feeling, but it was better than aggressive expectation. Not that it wasn't with good intentions, however. You just needed... time and space. And everything that is akin to healing. But until then, you were going to force everything into the deepest nook of your mind and let it wait. It can wait. It always does.

You threw yourself into gear, tossing your jacket on and donning your backpack like it was the most familiar thing you had (which it was). It was stocked with everything you could find, namely water and food scraps if not one bottle of pills and a shirt or two. It slung itself over your shoulders well and just barely bounced to the pace of your footsteps.

"Alright, everything's all good and ready? Not forgettin' anything?" Luke chimed, somehow always able to sound casual regardless of circumstance.

 

Nick started through the pines. "Yeah, we're fine. Let's just get a move on." 

 


	2. Thanatopsis

"Where's Pete?"

 

The pregnant woman's voice resounded in your head several times. What a familiar name. You hadn't thought about it since you reached the camp you previously resided at. You did that intentionally, too. But here you are, forced to face the thing you preferred to pretend didn't even exist.

Nick barely lasted a second before he wandered into the rest of the house, leaving Luke to to do the talking (which you felt guilty of) as you followed after the boy. You could hear Luke begin as you retreated from the kitchen, and the poor woman's choked sound as she listened to him go. God you hated yourself for what happened, but you knew you had to own up to it.

But you couldn't deny the fact that you were willing to die over it.

 

* * *

 

Your throat tightened up as you reached the peak of your lungs, unable to let out another shout. A weight fell down upon you, gnashing teeth and gripping hands that mindlessly and instinctually tried to grasp at your neck and face. To bite you. The walker placed all of its dead weight onto you in a mess of groans, snarling and gripping anywhere and everywhere to get at soft skin. It was slimy and rotten as your hands shoved into its chest, squirming and trapped.

"God, fuck! Get off of me! Get off- get off!" Your arms shoved, heaving its mass fruitlessly, desperate to get away. Everyone else died, one by one, and now here you were in the same position - just like the rest of them. Not you, god, not you.

The muscles in your shoulders began to give out, and your focus vanished in the second it took a gunshot to go off, blood splattering across your face. The walker slumped into you like a proper corpse should, and then was jerked off to the side, revealing the blurry figure of a bald man and his rifle. His hand outstretched to you, stern and quick-like. 

Your hand yanked onto his without a second thought, and he stumbled forwards, receiving a tight, angry bite to the neck from a stray walker which sent you wiggling out of his grasp and crawling back. He howled out, rattling to get it off like an animal being shaken by its neck. You scrambled to your feet, arms raised as though you were ready to defend something in spite of your statue-esque posture. Another gunshot fired, and it almost floored you from the sound alone. But this one was different; it wasn't the same gunshot from before, and it was accompanied by loud shouting that you couldn't comprehend.

"Hhhh-God-" Your hands cupped your ears, trying to keep your head on and hunching over as you struggled to keep your footing. Colors floated in your vision, looking up to watch two figures huddle around the man that saved you. Muffled speech swam past, their hands gripping his shoulders and neck as he lay on the ground. One of the boys cupped the man's face as he struggled, painting red on his cheeks while he swallowed and spat blood up into the patchy grass.

Minutes felt like days, and in a familiar kind of abruptness, they gripped one another, one boy standing sharply and the other hobbling up to their feet as they looked at you. They approached you, making wide sweeping gestures. One of them gripped your shoulder, yanking you further into the forest to which you complied, being dragged with blood snarled angrily across your face and down your clothes. 

 

* * *

 

His camo cargo pants made idle noises as he traveled up the stairs, his fast pace proving difficult to follow in his wake. He neglected the handrail and went right up, heading for a door and placing his hand on the knob tightly. You could hear the shaking in his arm generate gentle clatters from the knob's metal as it vibrated along with him.

Slowly, your own climb came to a pause as you lingered halfway up. Staring up at him, the corners of your mouth flicked into a frown, half-lidded in emotional exhaustion as your voice chimed out to him weakly.

"Nick, wait."

"Don't fucking talk to me." Nick's voice was low and raw. His jaw locked, head turning just enough to barely look at you with his tired, cold eyes.

You shrank away, watching as he slammed the door behind him after he entered his room. The vibration shook you.

You turned, allowing your body to curl inwards. God damn, what were you going to do? Your hands snaked up your body, covering your sore eyes as you coiled inwards on the staircase, keeling inwards. You briefly caught a glimpse of Luke at the beginning of the steps, hand on the rail. He seemed concerned, but he was the least of yours.

"Hey. You should get some sleep soon. Maybe grab a bite to eat before headin' to bed, alright?" His voice overshadowed the debate in the kitchen, clearly hearing their distress over your appearance in the group. He waited for a moment before turning and leaving, letting you climb down the stairs only to climb into the armchair in the middle of the room. You balled up, refusing to eat for now. You just weren't hungry.

Perhaps by morning come, hopefully, you might feel better.  

 


End file.
